O Fortuna
by myrellef
Summary: Reincarnated and forced to learn the ins and outs of life as an Uchiha in the Warring States Era, I've resigned myself to the death plot I once fondly recalled as Naruto, a manga series. The basics? Don't reveal any plot, and stay alive. The facts? Uchiha deserve world domination, and turns out meeting assholes and tree huggers was just a part of being this fabulous. OC-Insert.


So I'm not sure how this whole fan fiction thing really works. But I think I've stalked more than enough stories and now I'm trying out my own hand at one. Or keyboard. Whichever you choose.

Writing and posting anything for me is a huge surprise. I don't think I ever expected to even try it out because I can't even work up the guts to comment/review (on) a story, which don't get me started on, is sad. And I know that it shouldn't be difficult, but my brain just kind of functions that way.

So if there's anything to take from this short little nervous rambling text of mine is that nothing. Absolutely nothing, because I'm just surprising myself, which in itself, is surprising.

But even so, if anyone reads this, I'd appreciate really any and all feedback regarding grammar, vocabulary, or anything you noticed in the story.

So, hope you enjoy my first fanfiction :)

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O Fortuna - Prologue

J'étais une musicienne dans ma vie passée. I was a musician in my past life.

I loved every second of it, my past life, that is, and only regret leaving it so soon. Sure, I'd missed out on parents but I'd been adopted around my third year of elementary by a lovely woman by the name of Georgia. She had been in her fifties around the time. She taught me music, math, and tried to stuff as much self awareness into me as possible before I became some sort of rebellious teenager (which, to this day, I lift my chin up defiantly and state never happened. No really, it didn't).

I loved – no – love her very, very much.

Point blank she was my role model. I had also had an uncle who I fondly called Uncle Johnny, even though his name was Jonathon. He hadn't been around too much but came back each winter break to celebrate Christmas and decorate the tree. Every Christmas morning I would wake up to a tree filled and decorated with Lindt chocolates like ornaments with their shiny wrapping paper. He would then proceed to stage it as though it'd been Santa.

He called me 'cookie', gave the best hugs, and sometimes he picked me up and swung me around.

He died on the airplane back to his medical school in United States one winter break. It was from anaphylactic shock. I remember Granny Georgia telling me that parents should never have to see their children go before them.

It had only been after his death that I discovered that he had been my biological father, he was her son, and that my biological grandmother – Granny Georgia – had adopted me. That was kind of really amazing.

And as much as I love to reminisce, the point is, he left the world before she did, and so did I.

The difference was, though, that he met his end, the absolute end, _the finale_ , the one with no encore. At least, I'll assume he did.

I hadn't though. I've realized as much, having been reverted back to the size of an arm's length baby with no bladder control.

The guilt must have been what prompted me to cry when I was born. Or rather, reborn.

It was the best thing I could come up with in the past hour or so. And seeing as how in the span of what felt like three minutes I became a tiny little human being all over again, I think it was plausible. In the first minute, I'd died via crazy serial killer, and then slept for what felt like too short a time in the second, leaving me weak, and tired. The last minute was composed of me crying for the loss of all I'd built in those years, and plenty of confusion. Plenty.

I hadn't been able to open my eyes so I didn't understand what was happening. I was just so dumbfounded. So very, very, confused. In addition, I felt extremely vulnerable. The lightest of breezes that I felt on, dare I assume it, skin, was freezing, and unnatural.

I mean, I died; you shouldn't be able to survive death. Surviving anything means escaping death, I did not escape anything, and therefore, I did not survive anything. I just started anew as though life had just told me 'Game Over', would you like to start a fucking 'New Game'? Oh wait, you have no choice. Let's just plunk you into darkness and soon, none the wiser than you already are, you will cry as loudly as a newborn baby, traumatized by the experience of being a child during childbirth.

And that's the thing, I knew I was alive. I could feel heat; I could hear voices, and just plain sense life in and all around me.

I knew it was different than before, I may have not been able to open my eyes but it wasn't the same darkness as before, if I looked I would see a reddish hue.

You know what I mean, close your eyes with lights around and it's not really black, is it?

It's almost – no, it is, amazing. Really, it was...baffling. Reincarnation existed. I existed once again.

I was actually reborn.

)}●{(

Days have passed since then, and despite my frustratingly necessary sleep patterns I managed to understand at least part of my situation.

From what I'd gathered I was somewhere in Japan or another country. Though, I really do think I'm in Japan, seeing as how Japanese, Korean, and the Chinese dialects sound pretty distinct from one another.

I still couldn't tell, for the life of me, what my name was, though I did keep hearing one recurring word, a family name, to be more specific. It was Uchiha.

I don't know what answer Google would have given me if I ever typed up, 'Is Uchiha an actual last name?' or something of the like. But I had a feeling I wouldn't like it.

It reminded me of ninja, and quite frankly? This unnerved me.

In my past life, I played the cello and was part of an orchestra. Finding my place in such a world had taken time but it happened, and I was so lucky, and so grateful.

I still had much to be grateful for. For two years I played, hummed, tapped and swung my hips to my own tune without worry before I met my end.

I know I was lucky. I met my family, connected with my roots, and lived my life carefree (for the most part) with lots of coffee, and my dog café, who had (sadly) become a victim of my addiction, evidently.

This time around, I may not necessarily know what I'd be grateful for, but I'm sure I would find it.

Luck was another topic entirely.

This time around, I had an impossibly unsettling feeling in the pit of my baby stomach that I might not be lucky at all.

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If you've made it this far congratulations, thank you very much, thank you very much, and more of my little side author-ish intro is up top on the page. Did I mention thank you very much?


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